Just on the edge of the deep, opposite window-frame, clung one vivid, separate flash of perfect azure, all alone, and farthest off of all.

Desire wondered, at first glance, how it should happen till she saw, against a closet-door ajar, a gibbous sphere of red and golden flame.  Yards apart the points were, and a shadow lay between; but the one sure sunbeam knew no distance, and there was no radiant line of the spectrum lost.

Desire remembered her old comparison of complementary colors:  “to see blue, and to live red,” she had said, complaining.

But now she thought,—­“Foreshortening!  In so many things, that is all,—­if we could only see as the Sun sees!”

One bit of our living, by itself, all one deep, burning, bleeding color, maybe; but the globe is white,—­the blue is somewhere.  And, lo! a soft, still motion; a little of the flame-tint has dropped off; it has leaped to join itself to the blue; it gives itself over; and they are beautiful together,—­they fulfill each other; yet, in the changing never a thread falls quite away into the dark.  Why, it is like love joining itself to love again!

As God’s sun climbs the horizon, His steadfast, gracious purpose, striking into earthly conditions, seems to break, and scatter, and divide.  Half our heart is here, half there; our need and ache are severed from their help and answer; the tender blue waits far off for the eager, asking red; yet just as surely as His light shines on, and our life moves under it, so surely, across whatever gulf, the beauty shall all be one again; so surely does it even now move all together, perfect and close always under His eye, who never sends a half ray anywhere.

* * * * *

She read her little poem,—­sent to her; she read it through.  She rose up glad and strong; her room was full of glorious sunshine now; the broken bits of color were all taken up in one full pouring of the day.

She went down with the light of it in her heart, and all about her.

Uncle Oldways met her at the foot of the wide staircase.  “Good-day, child!” he said to her in his quaint fashion.  “Why it is good day!  Your face shines.”

“You have given me a beautiful east window, uncle,” said Desire, “and the morning has come in!”

And from the second step, where she still stood, she bent forward a little, put her hands softly upon his shoulders, and for the first time, kissed his cheek.